


Prisoners at the Bar

by SunflowerShadows



Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Filling In the Gaps, PWP, Smut, What Happened After That Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-04-20 11:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14260101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerShadows/pseuds/SunflowerShadows
Summary: Exactly what did happen between Vera and Philip behind that closed door, after that kiss? When any night could be their last, they throw caution to the wind.





	1. Unlocked

**Author's Note:**

> Let's face it, we were all totally cheated out of Philip and Vera's love scene - I've tried to rectify that by imagining how that night might have gone once the camera panned away...
> 
> So I wrote this immediately after the brilliant BBC adaptation came out, aaand then totally forgot about it for about 2 years. So it's been a long time coming!   
> This is my first ever fic, and also the first smutty thing I've ever written (I couldn't help myself, can you blame me?), so I'd be grateful for any feedback!

Each face gently framed by a blush of lamplight, four figures reached the top of the staircase and turned into the dim corridor of the guest bedrooms. The four remaining victims of Soldier Island stepped slowly along the wooden floorboards, gas lamps in hand, dress shoes adding a dull echo to the otherwise silent procession through the gloom. Reaching their doors, each turned to face the others: Detective Blore and Philip Lombard at one end of the corridor, Vera Claythorne and Doctor Armstrong at the other. 

“Goodnight,” was typically the etiquette for this point of the evening but, in the circumstances, a reminder to lock the doors or even a warning to the others to keep away seemed equally appropriate. After all, if ‘U. N. Owen’ was truly an invention and the murders were the work of a guest of the house, there could well be a killer sleeping across the corridor. In the end, nothing was said, no words of comfort exchanged. Now they had reached the cool air of the upper floor, away from the swimming haze of heat, music and alcohol in the dining room, their brief camaraderie was broken. They began once more to feel wary, and mortal.

Blore and Armstrong turned away and stepped into their bedrooms, keys turning audibly in the locks; Vera and Philip remained still, eyes locked on each other. Downstairs in the dining room, as the gramophone played and they swayed together, breathing each other in, the light and music and the presence of the other men had served to detach them a little from the heat that had spread between them; that which had grown gradually from a disdain tinged with attraction to a dangerous curiosity. But now, in the silence, when they were left alone together mere steps from the seclusion of their bedrooms, they had to confront the question of whether to turn away and let the moment pass – as would be sensible, as would be Miss Brent’s idea of ‘moral’ – or to act. 

An irrepressible memory of Philip standing outside her bedroom rose up before Vera as she gazed into the dim light at the end of the corridor. That was when things had shifted between them, she recalled, when their rooms were being searched and they had stood together, undressed, outside her bedroom. While Vera wore her dressing gown, her legs the only substantial amount of skin on display, Philip was bare but for the towel that lay tantalisingly low on his hips. There had been something in the silence between them, in the brazen nature of his gaze, that made her want to level the playing field. Like he was challenging her. She could see most of him after all, she considered, and loosened the tie of her dressing gown, pressing apart the halves of fabric to reveal a red bathing costume that emphasised the curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts to his wandering eyes. 

She had wondered then, Vera admitted to herself. She couldn’t help but wonder…what it would be like to be skin to skin, whether the motion of his hands and his lips on her body would carry the same heat as his eyes. 

And now, as she stood holding a lamp instead of the tie to her dressing gown, now that she’d had a brief glimpse of the warm pressure of Philip’s body against hers, Vera wanted him close again. 

But before she could collect her thoughts into a coherent plan or a step down the corridor, the light around Phillip shifted. He was turning away. Without a word, he stepped into his bedroom, the glow from his candle swallowed by darkness as he shut the door.

Disappointed, Vera retreated into her own bedroom. She shut herself inside and stepped across the carpeted floor, setting the lamp down on her dressing table. Surveying the dim picture of herself in her dressing mirror, she ran a brush through her hair, the mundane normality of such a task relaxing her enough to think. All things considered, it was better this way. She was unmarried, for starters. The disapproving image of Miss Brent rose up in her mind’s eye: taking a lover was not respectable, it was not ‘moral’. Hardly a serious consideration, she mused. After all, she had done it before. And if she was to die on this island, societal opinion was utterly irrelevant.

Although…

That was something else she had forgotten amidst the warmth of Philip and the yearning in the pit of her stomach – if one of the four of them were the killer, it could very well be him. Not the best idea to shut herself away with a murderer. This idea was almost immediately dismissed. Vera could well believe that Philip had a sinister edge to his character but, in essentials, this pattern of killings didn’t suit him. These deaths were formulaic; they were utterly passionless. There was seemingly little to be gained from each one but the next move in a sick psychological game. And from what she had gleaned of Philip’s character – from his rage, from the manner of his speech, from the way his hands flexed and tightened on her back as his lips drew across her forehead - ‘passionless’ was not in his nature. 

The brush stilled in mid-air as her mind raced with the course this night could have taken. She recalled the gentle but insistent pressure of his lips, and felt them travel down to her throat as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric of her blouse...the hot rush of his breath against her ear, her collarbone…

A soft step in the corridor jerked her out of her reverie; with a sharp stab of panic, Vera realised she hadn’t locked the door. 

_Stupid._

She replaced the hairbrush by her mirror and glanced around for the closest potential weapon. Curling her fingers around the heavy clock on her dressing table, she steeled herself as a second step fell outside her door. The doorknob turned, light spilled over the threshold – and Philip Lombard stepped into the room.

 

Philip stood looking at Vera as he had in the corridor, unmoving and unspeaking, fixing her with an almost impenetrable gaze. Yet this time, if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a flicker of anxiety in him. His all-encompassing confidence wavered, as if he was unsure whether he had made the right choice or if she would tell him to leave. A few beats of stillness passed as they considered each other, before Philip let go of the doorknob and took a tentative step forward. It was the first unsure move Vera had seen him make since they had arrived on the island. It made her bold, decisive. She took a few steps towards him and he paused, turning his head to watch her as she stepped past him and closed the door, the dull sound of the key in the lock sealing them both inside. 

Suddenly uncomfortably warm in her thin blouse, she turned to face him, leaning lightly against the door for support. Now he was here, she wasn’t sure of her next move; but she was certainly open to his suggestions. 

In shutting the door, Vera felt as though she had shut out the flow of air. There was a heaviness in the atmosphere, pressing around her, making her suddenly aware of her entire body. There was a slight ringing in her ears along with the thrumming of her blood, and she felt each hair prickle as if his fingers were already on her skin. Forcing herself to meet his eyes, she found them burning into hers with such blatant desire that it made her skin throb. Once she had locked the door, all trace of his anxiety had vanished. 

She’d shown that she wanted him, and that was all he needed to know. 

He stepped towards her; before she had time to form a thought, he was so close that she could feel his heat through his shirt. His hands fell lightly onto her hips and he backed her against the door as he pressed even closer, her heavy breathing shifting her breasts against the firmness of his chest. In response to his movement, Vera lifted her hands from where they were pressed behind her, and spread them across Philip’s back, coming to rest on his waist. She could hear his breathing quicken just like her own and the air between them prickled as they shifted ever closer. His face reached hers and their foreheads met, Vera’s vision blurring as the picture of his face distorted with the proximity. Her eyelids fluttered closed as Philip brought a hand up to cradle her head. 

Before, in the dining room, he had touched his forehead to hers and followed it with his lips; it had been comforting, protective. This time, pressed against the door of Vera’s bedroom, the contact carried heat, expectation. Philip shifted and lowered his head the final millimetres necessary to brush Vera’s lips against his. In contrast to his body, his lips were surprisingly soft, and the reality of his kiss made Vera light-headed. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, and as his mouth left hers, she followed and pulled him back in. Encouraged, Phillip deepened the kiss, stroking her lips with the tip of his tongue; when her hands tightened on his back, he gripped her hips tightly and pressed her hard against the door. Vera revelled in the pressure, in the hard reality of him, her fingertips digging into his back.

Breaking from the kiss, slightly breathless, he moved his lips across her jaw and to her throat, caressing and nibbling the heated skin beneath her ear, following the ever-quickening beat of her pulse down to her collarbone. Vera’s breath was beginning to come in pants, her hands roving down his back, across the firmness of his backside. Philip let out a small growl – delighted at her desire – a rumble deep in his chest that shocked through her nerves and spurred her on. She slid her palms up his sides and around to explore the firm planes of his chest, tracing the muscles with her fingertips. Her touch made him shiver, made his skin feel more alive. 

Vera tugged on the open material beneath his collar, urging him closer still as the aching heat between her thighs flared. Philip pressed himself flush against her body, limb to limb, deliciously pinning her as he attended to her throat; first with his lips, then followed by his teeth. Drawing her hands down, with slightly fumbling fingers she started to frantically unbutton his shirt, eager to bare his chest, to set her fingers to his skin. His lips left her neck and crushed against hers, the unreserved passion in his kiss sending shivers down her spine, and she shifted against him. He released her lips on a gasp and tightened his grip on her hip. Her hands stilled halfway down his chest, leaving his shirt hanging half open as she shifted against him once more, this time more provocatively. He gasped out another breath and took her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently. 

She didn’t think she’d dare to be this bold, but she wanted to see him react like that again; encouraged by the thundering of his pulse underneath her fingers, she lowered a hand from his chest and pressed it against his crotch, squeezing him. 

“Oh, god –“, he groaned against her lips, resting his forehead against hers for stability as she stroked him firmly through his trousers. 

“ _Vera…_ ”

She was too good at this, he thought. She’d been at her game only a few seconds and he could barely breathe. He’d been imagining this all day, and if she carried on much longer, he wouldn’t even make it to the bed. The good little secretary, before so prim and cold, now pressed up warm and soft against him, stroking and squeezing his cock until he was quaking, fighting to keep control. The transformation was delicious. He reciprocated in kind, his hands roaming her body, tearing open her blouse on a growl and teasing her breasts through her underclothes, learning quickly where she liked to be touched, and how. Learning too quickly for her to handle. 

Hearing him moan her name, knowing the effect she was having on him, had racked up Vera’s desire even higher, and every touch of Philip’s hands threw sparks across her skin. She heard herself moaning against his mouth as his fingers explored, but when his hands snuck underneath her skirt and to the skin above her stockings, fingernails digging into her thighs, she became desperate. His fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh and ghosted across her underwear. Vera’s swollen lips rested against Phillip’s as the breath stilled in her throat, before the heel of his hand brushed and then pressed purposefully across her aching bud. She moaned against his lips, heat firing through her veins, before he crushed his mouth to hers, her spare hand clutching his arm as she gripped him through his trousers. 

Breaking from the kiss, her breathing as frantic as Philip’s, Vera tore open the rest of his shirt, unable to restrain herself any longer. She grabbed the sides of the material and pressed it wide, Philip coming to his senses and shaking himself free. From then on, they pulled at every item of clothing they could reach, the sound of their laboured breathing punctuated by the dull thud of a belt hitting the floor, the snap of a garter. The more clothes they removed, the thicker the air felt as they bared more skin to the other’s eyes, to their desperate hands. Philip was filled with an urge to lift her, press her hard against the wall and take her that way – he had a strong suspicion that she would love that – but there was something else he needed to do first. A form of payback for the torture Vera had laid upon him. 

He would make damned sure she remembered this night. 

Fingers ran over skin speckled with goose bumps, and deep in a toe-curling kiss, Philip turned with Vera in his arms and began to steer her backwards, towards her bed. She fell into step with him immediately, unable to continue a moment longer without having him touch her; without having him over her, on her, inside her. The back of her legs hit the edge of the bed and Philip pressed on, tumbling them both onto the covers. Vera laughed against his lips as they bounced onto the bed, a laugh that quickly halted when she felt his lips once more against her throat, and the hand that wasn’t pinned beneath her back swiftly gliding down her side, over her hip and to her thigh, leaving tingling skin in its wake. It was followed quickly by his mouth, as he placed hot, urgent kisses to her skin. He travelled to her right breast, his tongue sliding around and across her nipple, lips closing around puckered flesh, as she gasped and dug her nails into the hard muscle of his upper arm. 

He continued down her torso, kissing and nibbling at her stomach before tracing the line of her hip with his tongue, leaving her breathless. He was at the very edge of the bed now; shifting quickly, he came to rest with his knees on the floor, by her dangling feet. 

“Well, well, Miss Claythorne,” Philip growled, breathing heavily, running his hands up from her shins right to the crease of Vera’s hip, making her shiver. “These legs are even prettier than I remember.” With his eyes burning into hers, he drew his hands back down her inner thighs and all the way down to her toes, fingers curled so she could feel the gentle pressure of his nails as they grazed across her heated skin. She groaned at the sensation and her eyelids fell, so aroused now that it almost hurt.

“Philip,” she murmured, “touch me.” 

A smirk curled at the edge of his mouth, and he flicked his eyes up to hers, finding them closed, her head shifting as restlessly as her hips. This was exactly what he wanted. He hadn’t even touched her properly yet and she was sensually desperate. But so was he. And hearing her moan, begging him to pleasure her…he was so hard. He was throbbing, desperate to fuck her just as she wanted him to. But he wanted this first. And so would she.

“As the lady commands,” he grinned. 

And in one swift movement he gripped her by her waist and pulled her towards him, so that she lay with her hips right on the edge of the bed. 

Vera yelped in surprise. But before she could ask Philip what he was doing, he’d placed a thigh over each of his shoulders and clamped his hands around her hips, pressing her into the bed, and with a last lust-filled stare lowered his eyes and his mouth between her thighs. For a fraction of a second Vera was too stunned to react as he pressed his mouth to her; then she felt his tongue and she stuttered in a breath, her back arching against the bed. 

She would have bucked into his mouth if his hands had allowed her to move her hips. As it was, all she could do was accept the intense pleasure, the flicking and swirling of his tongue leaving her helpless, writhing and panting beneath his touch. Her hands gripped the bedclothes, Philip’s hair, her breasts; she could barely process so much pleasure as it built and built. 

A sheen of sweat coated her skin as he made her writhe, moaning in sheer abandon in response to the motion of his tongue. Vera’s blood thundered furiously, pulsing across her skin as if it was trying to leave her body as Philip devoted his skill – ohh, the skill of this man – to driving her over the edge. When he locked his lips around her throbbing clit and began to suckle at her, she thought she would go mad. When the pressure of his hand on her left hip disappeared and she felt him ease first one finger, and then another, ever so slowly inside of her, she thought she would break apart. But then, in the midst of their thrusting, his fingers curled and pressed against a spot on her upper wall. Vera’s mouth fell open on a wordless scream, her whole body stilling for a moment as Philip’s fingers settled into their rhythm, powerfully stroking that spot with each thrust; and then she came back to herself on a quaking surge of sensation. 

She hauled in a breath and swore as she gripped his head; his chuckle vibrated against her throbbing flesh. 

He glanced up at her as she released his hair; he was treated to the sight of her unrestrained, head thrown to the side with eyes squeezed shut and lips open, her hands twisted frantically in the sheets. Listening carefully to her responses, he allowed himself a little experimentation, working to find the right spots and motions to bring her undone. He drew the tip of his tongue slowly along one side of her clitoris and she let out a strangled gasp; watching her closely, he repeated the action and drew slow circles over the spot with the tip of his tongue, gradually moving faster. And faster. She shuddered and her head pressed back into the bed with a guttural groan.

“Philip – _ohhhh god…_ ”

She was shaking now, her hips thrusting involuntarily. Philip brought his unoccupied hand from her waist to spread across her abdomen, pinning her to the bed and stilling her hips. He couldn’t believe how aroused he was – she wasn’t even touching him, but the sounds she made, not to mention the sight and scent of her, were making his head spin and his groin ache.

With Philip’s tongue and his hands driving her higher and higher, the tension in her stomach coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap, it was all Vera could do to hold onto the bed. He was increasing his speed, timing his torture of his lips and tongue to the writhing pleasure of his thrusting fingers, and with each second Vera was filling up with pressure, ready to burst.

Then he pressed deep inside her as he drew his tongue across her favourite spot, and Vera cried out, clutching desperately at Philip’s hair as the heat exploded, her thighs clamping either side of his head. She shuddered as she felt herself pulsing, dragged under by the crash of toe-curling pleasure. He kept his fingers moving within her, timing his thrusts with the throbbing of her body as she convulsed about him, keeping her climax thundering on. The sounds she made were torturous to him as she bucked and rode his hand. Eventually her breathing began to ease and he slowed, gently drawing out of her as her body relaxed. 

She eased her grip on his head, running her fingers through his hair. It was meant as a wordless sign of appreciation, but in the state Philip was in, the sliding and tangling of her fingers – trembling slightly in the aftermath – against his scalp made his skin prickle and sent a shiver down his spine. Breathing heavily but remaining still, Philip raised his eyes to Vera’s face, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin. Painfully aroused, he watched as her eyelids lifted and a smile spread across her face. 

“Mr Lombard…” Vera murmured.

Philip chuckled, low and deep in his chest. “I think we’re somewhat past ‘Mr Lombard’, don’t you?” He pressed a hot kiss to her inner thigh, then released her legs and rose up off the floor. Gripping her by the waist, he shifted her smoothly up the bed, her head coming to rest on a pillow. Kneeling on the mattress, he crawled slowly up her body, eyes burning into hers. “Oh, Vera,” he smirked, “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.”

“God, I hope not.”


	2. Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what did happen between Vera and Philip behind that closed door, after that kiss? When any night could be their last, they throw caution to the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after a pretty big gap...the conclusion of a brief respite from the dangers and pitfalls of Soldier Island. Philip and Vera finally satisfy their curiosity and ensure that if they're going out, they're going out with a bang.

_Gripping her by the waist, he shifted her smoothly up the bed. Kneeling on the mattress, he crawled slowly up her body, eyes burning into hers. “Oh, Vera,” he smirked, ducking his head to murmur in her ear, “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.” “God, I hope not.”_

\------ 

Philip’s face drew level with hers, locks of dark hair falling out of place and tickling her forehead. Even this – this proximity – was making her feel heated again. Resting on his forearms so as not to crush her, he was just out of reach of her chest, but he was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body to hers. With a slow, sultry smile at her intake of breath, he set his mouth to her jaw, kissing and nibbling at her skin greedily. Skimming his swollen lips down past her jawbone, he drew drugging kisses across the ever-increasing pulse point at her throat, and beneath her ear. Still reeling from his tongue, every touch of his lips reawakened the ache, a throbbing need for him that spread from between her legs throughout her body. Right to the tips of her toes, which crept over his calves as she twined her legs with his, weaving herself as close as possible as he shifted his weight to trace one hand across her neck, collarbone, and down to her chest. A small moan escaped her as he lightly traced one finger around and over her right breast, grazing over her nipple. She shuddered. 

He released her throat and brought his mouth down upon hers, kissing her with an intensity and hunger that reminded Vera how desperate he still was. His palm closed more firmly about her breast as she met his kisses, sliding her tongue against his and nibbling at his lower lip. He swept her up in the fire once more, and she yearned to feel the pressure of his body against hers. She clutched at him, tried to pull him down to her, tightening the grip of her legs against his. He understood, and let his body down more firmly atop hers. The feel of him, hot and hard and barely restrained, was delicious. She squirmed against him, moaning into his mouth, and ran her hands down his back, letting him feel her nails on his skin as he had with her. He groaned, grinding against her; involuntarily, she suspected. Encouraged, her hands continued down to the smooth skin and hard muscle of his backside, and squeezed. Two hands closed firmly over her wrists, and her hands were drawn away and up, pinned into place above her head with Philip’s hands as an anchor. 

He broke from the kiss. “Full of surprises, Vera”, he panted, his voice ragged with desire. 

She tried to move her wrists from under his hands and discovered she couldn’t; quite to her surprise, she liked the restraint. Especially with him so close. She lifted her head and took his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging slightly, before moving on to nibble at his jaw, then his ear. When her teeth came down upon his lobe, Philip let a moan escape him, fingers tightening their grip. 

“So you like this,” he observed, squeezing her wrists in explanation. “Good. _Ohhh_ – “ 

Vera had drawn her tongue across the sensitive skin of his neck, and Philip decided enough was enough. 

He nudged her thighs further apart with his knees, his throbbing length at long last coming into contact with her warm, slick flesh. He crushed his mouth to hers as he began to rock his hips, rubbing his cock gently against her, forcing himself to go slowly, making sure she was ready. Groaning, Vera mimicked his actions. They continued in this motion for a few seconds, panting against each other’s lips until, quaking, they couldn’t wait any longer. With her hands still pinned beneath his, Philip shifted himself a little lower down her body, his hips between her thighs, and thrust into her in one steady and torturously slow motion. Vera let out a strangled cry, digging her nails into Philip’s hands as his swollen lips came down upon hers again with a desperate groan. He soon settled into a steady rhythm, thrusting into her with a quaking passion that drove her wild. Drawing his hands down from where they covered hers, he set one to her breast and the other to her thigh, lifting it up and around his waist. She followed his lead and lifted the other leg, and he thrust even deeper. No longer restrained, she drew her hands down his body and gripped his ass, pulling him towards her, urging him deeper, harder, faster. Philip shuddered as her nails dug into his skin and gladly accepted her wordless plea, driving into her with each movement of his hips. She was on fire, gripping his torso with her thighs and capturing his mouth in deep, scorching kisses as her hands roved across his heated skin. He was trembling, utterly lost in the sheer sensuality of her, unprepared for how hungry she was: a hunger that matched his. 

He felt her fingers spread across his chest, and she pushed gently against him. He broke away from her lips and raised his head to look at her questioningly. 

Chest heaving, he managed to croak, “Is something wrong?” 

She looked intoxicated, her eyelids half-closed and vision hazy. He could only imagine he looked the same. Her eyebrows flicked up, a slow smirk spreading across her face as she caught her breath. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she murmured, voice low and gravelled as she slid her legs from around his waist. He sensed she had something in mind, and flicked up his eyebrows in a silent question, his mind too full of her to trust himself to speak coherently. 

“On your back, Philip.” 

A beat passed, then he felt her nails once more against his chest. Needing no more encouragement, he wrapped his arms tightly underneath her and rolled over onto his back, Vera shifting her weight so that she came to rest straddling him, supported on her knees. 

She took a moment to steady herself, take in the oxygen she’d lost, and to consider the new position. An experimental roll of her hips and Philip’s accompanying intake of breath was all it took to reassure herself. She examined his face, taught with desire and the struggle to retain control. Flashing him a sultry smile, she leaned forward and took his hands from where they’d been resting on her hips, pinning them either side of his head. His fingers closed around hers as she bent to bring her lips almost into contact with his, her breasts sliding against his chest. She seemed to be on the verge of toying with him, so Philip took his chance and raised his head, quickly capturing her lips and dragging her back down into the flames. Feeling the frantic thud of his heart against hers, she began to grind her hips. 

She moved slowly at first, experimentally, so many sensual avenues open to her that she was unsure which to pursue. She settled for many. She rose up from his body, hands still around his wrists so that she leaned over him, breasts above his face, and rode him. She rolled her hips sinuously against him, stroking him inside her, varying the speed, the angle at which she tortured him, testing for the best way to utterly unravel him. Philip was stunned by the sheer force of the pleasure she lavished on him, his head pressing back into the pillows and fingers gripping hers for some semblance of stability as he dragged in desperate breaths. Almost involuntarily, he began to buck his hips, driving into her as she ground herself hard against him, the collisions creating shocks of pleasure that forced a frantic moan from both of them. Vera released his wrists and gripped the headboard in desperation, picking up speed to ride him harder, and harder, as passion overtook her. No longer restrained, Philip clamped his hands on her hips, driven by a throbbing, clawing need for her. He pulled her hips down to meet his one moment, and aided her winding motion upon him the next, their bodies bowing and shaking as the pleasure built and slammed into them with increasing urgency. They grew louder, panting and crying out almost in unison as the bed creaked with their movements, and fingers tightened their grip on wood and skin as they moved with increasing speed. Then just as a particularly delicious thrust threatened to throw Vera over the edge, Philip stilled her hips. 

“Wait, stop,” he stuttered. He lifted her off of him, and she whimpered at the denial. “Not yet,” he replied. “This time,” he panted, rising up so that his face drew almost level with hers and she could see each delightfully tousled lock of hair, “when you come, Vera – and you will – I want to learn what makes you _scream_. If you’ll let me.” His burning gaze held a promise, not empty predictions. She shivered, and nodded. 

He kissed her ravenously, but broke it quickly to take her by the waist. Taking his hint, she drew her far leg over so that she was no longer straddling him, and he raised himself up onto his knees. Positioning himself behind her, he leant forward to murmur, “Trust me.” Pushing her gently but firmly by the waist, she moved on her knees so that she was closer to the headboard, the heat from his proximity making her ache. 

He planted her hands on the wooden frame of the bed. “You might want to hold on to this,” she heard from behind her, followed by his hot breath on her left ear as he leaned closer. “Because,” he growled, “I have no intention of going easy on you…” his voice a low and deep rumble in her ear, making the hair on the back of her neck prickle. She felt the firm press of his lips on the skin just below her ear, before he bit her lobe, not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to make her quiver as he gently tugged with his teeth. She definitely enjoyed his slight roughness with her, she’d discovered. His hands had been on top of hers, where he’d placed them against the bedframe, but now they swiftly began to travel up her arms, over the curve of her shoulders and down, tracing the curves of her torso with his fingertips. Vera gasped in a breath with each new movement. In this position, she could see neither his face nor his hands; she had no indication of where he was going next, and so each touch was unexpected. But, she thought, he couldn’t predict her either… 

She pushed herself back until she came fully into contact with his body, with the hot expanse of his chest and his rock-hard length. Arching herself against him deliberately, lasciviously, she wound her hips and stroked herself against him. She was desperate to have him inside her again, and from the way his breathing was stuttering and his hands had gripped her torso, she guessed the feeling was mutual. 

“Stop torturing me, Philip, you arsehole,” she breathed, “and _fuck me_.” 

It was the last coherent sentence she spoke for some time. 

She felt the hot wave of his panting breath on her neck, followed by the graze of his lips and teeth on her shoulder. Taking a firm hold of her hips, bracing her body against his, he flexed his hips and drove into her. Vera’s body arched forwards as he filled her, barely having time to process the new sensations this position brought before he withdrew almost fully out of her and then thrust in again, hard. An irrepressible moan rose up in her throat, and she heard Philip’s smothered exclamation next to her ear. He settled into a steady rhythm, just slow enough that she was able to breathe as the pressure began to build. Now that she’d gotten used to the position, Vera started exploring how she could play her part. She’d been letting Philip’s hands drive her movements, but she was too wild with desire to remain immobile. He began to withdraw from her steadily, in preparation for his next thrust, but as he began to pull back, she drove her hips down and against him, impaling herself upon him. It took him by surprise – the strangled sound from behind her told her that. She rolled her hips, her ass against his groin, rubbing him inside her; it felt so good that her fingers dug into the wood of the headboard. Philip’s fingers bit into the flesh of her hips and she felt his teeth on her shoulder, an action that sent heat flooding through her as she rode him. She lifted her hips and slammed down upon him again, and again, only pausing for a moment after each thrust to savour the bursts and ripples of pleasure that occurred when they met, and the deep, desperate moans that rose from Philip’s throat. She could feel his heat within her, feel him throbbing as he clung to her for dear life. 

She grinned at the effect her movements were having on him, the hard velvet feel of him as she drove him into her. She wanted to drive him wild, for him to lose himself; to prove that even when he was in control, he wasn’t. And it was certainly having the desired effect. Her hips needing no direction, Philip drew his hands up to claim her breasts. He kneaded the soft mounds, ran his thumbs around and across her hardened nipples, tweaking experimentally. It sent jolts of electricity through her body and she contracted around his cock; he hissed in a breath at the sensation. 

He picked up his own thrusting again, their bodies bumping, pressing, sliding against each other with a light sheen of sweat as they fell into a dazed rhythm. Without realising it, they had begun to pick up the pace. All cocky showmanship lost in the haze of pleasure, Philip was panting, moaning as he hunched into Vera’s body, pressing as much of her body to his as possible. He’d known she wanted him, but he hadn’t predicted quite how passionate she would be, he had to admit. And now that he saw her true colours, he was struggling to cling to his control; she’d thrown him into ecstasy, and every move of her hips was torturous bliss. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, desperately driving her higher – he didn’t know how much longer he could last. She bent forward slightly on a moan, pushing herself into his hands, exposing her neck and shoulders. Philip ducked his head and licked a long line from between her shoulder blades up the back of her neck and she shivered in response, spreading her knees a little wider to give her better purchase on the bed. 

They picked up speed. Vera gripped the bedframe as Philip drove into her again and again, feeling the pressure build and build, pleasure pooling deep in her abdomen and spreading over her body. Becoming more and more desperate, Philip released her breasts and clamped his hands over Vera’s on the bedframe. Twining his fingers with hers, he pried her hands from the wood and pulled her backwards, wrapping his hands around her torso so that she was almost sat on his thighs as he thrust into her. She wrapped one hand around his waist and tangled the other in his hair, gripping the back of his head, turning her head for a brief and desperate kiss. Their moans grew louder. 

God, she was so close. She could feel herself tightening, the throbbing need for release escalating. Every touch shot sparks under her skin and she ground her body against his in desperation, crying out. He thrust into her deliciously hard, pumping his hips against her, building the fire up to an almost unbearable degree. Skimming the fingers of one hand down past the trembling skin of her stomach, he began to rub against her clitoris. She cried out and reflexively bucked, but his other hand pinned her to his body as he stroked her right where she needed it, moving his finger in a motion that had her digging her fingernails into his skin. Braced against his body like this, there was no hope of escaping his wonderful fingers, of keeping control of herself any longer. She let out breath by crying out his name, her entire body trembling as his finger picked up speed, matching his thrusts. 

“Philip…I – I – you’re…I’m going to… _yes, YES – ohh_ there – “ 

“ _Oh god,_ Vera – don’t stop…“ 

He made two more devastating thrusts, and she was gone. The pressure in her belly peaked, paused for a split second and then – as she felt Philip’s teeth come down hard on her shoulder - exploded, dragging her under a shuddering wave of ecstasy as her body clamped down on him, pulsed, spread warmth to her fingertips as she stifled a scream. He growled in her ear and rolled his hips against her, pressing her to him and shifting the position of his finger so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable in the aftermath. It took all of his strength to ride through the torturous pleasure of her climax as her body quaked and her breathing stuttered and she caressed him with every inch of her body. He gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed shut while he struggled to regain control, realised that wasn’t possible and instead settled for bringing her with him. 

_Just a little longer. You made her a promise._

Vera came to her senses just as, stunned, she felt the pleasure rise again, deep and toe-curling, and gripped Philip’s hair tight. Struggling to cling on, he had kept up a rhythm, short and slow thrusts of his hips deep inside her, stroking and pressing into her. When he felt her respond, clenching around him and tightening her grip, he increased the pace a little. She gasped and ground her hips against him, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He thrust deep and fast within her, pressing her body hard to his as her moans grew louder once more. Leaning forward, he took her earlobe between his teeth. Vera dug her nails into his skin as the tight heat built within her to an impossible height, flooding over her skin as he lavished sensation on her. She couldn’t concentrate on one specific action or part of her body. His teeth were on her earlobe and his hot breath panting desperately into her ear, one hand squeezing a breast while the other returned to circling her clitoris, and all the while he was thrusting deep and hard inside her, his heated skin pressed flush to as much of hers as he could reach. 

“I promised you you’d scream,” he panted. 

She was frantic now, hauling in breaths and crying out his name and rambling encouragements, and the bright tightness built higher, and higher, held suspended for a moment and then – shattered. She screamed as another climax slammed into her and her body clamped down upon him, writhing as light poured through her veins and she clung to his trembling frame. 

The pulsing of her body threw him finally and irrevocably over the edge. His fingers dug into her skin as blinding pleasure wrenched through his abdomen and burst across his skin. He rocked his body into hers and shuddered inside her as he came, roaring her name into her shoulder as waves of warmth and ecstasy wiped every other thought but her from his head. Vera kept grinding against him, drinking in the sounds Philip made as he was dragged under, and then gradually resurfaced. As they began to recover their senses, they became aware of how tightly they were gripping each other, and slowly released their hold. Lips still against Vera’s shoulder, Philip wondered dimly if he had left teeth marks. From what he’d learned of her tonight, he mused, she’d probably like that. He pressed a soothing kiss to her skin before drawing his head back. The hand still tangled in his hair moved reluctantly away, warm fingers stroking his cheek as Vera released him and slumped forwards onto the twisted sheets. She rolled onto her back as Philip lay down by her side, and their breathing finally began to calm. 

A few seconds drew by before Vera broke the sated silence. 

“Well…” 

She turned her head to find him looking at her, and her lips curved into a lazy smile. He flashed a grin back at her, in the first calm and honest moment they had had on this island. 

“Vera,” he murmured, “that was…surprising. And incredible.” 

“Yes. It turns out I hate you somewhat less than I originally planned.” 

“Well, these beg to differ.” He gestured to the various marks her desperate hands had left on his torso, his arms. Vera smirked. 

“If that’s where you’re going with this, I have a feeling you’ve left some choice reminders on me, too.” Her accompanying grin assured him that she didn’t mind in the slightest – his theory had been correct after all. 

Suddenly a noise outside the room cut through the companionable silence. Someone was banging on a door down the corridor. They both stilled, and then Philip heard his name. 

_“Lombard!”_ hissed a voice, which Philip guessed was Boyle’s. 

With a look of concern to Vera, Philip leapt out of bed, pulling on his trousers from where they lay forgotten on the floor, and grabbed his shirt. It looked like their fleeting peace was over, Vera concluded. Boyle wouldn’t leave his room in the middle of the night without reason, and that reason couldn’t be good. 

She raised herself up to sit against the headboard, drawing her knees up and inspecting with some satisfaction the shadows of Philip’s fingers on her skin. She heard him cross the end of the bed and his footsteps pause. Just as she raised her head, Philip was by her side, kneeling on the bed and holding the back of her head for one last, deep kiss. He raised his head to consider her, this dangerous, intoxicating woman, and opened his lips to speak. 

The banging sounded again, this time more insistent. There was no more time for them. He gripped her hand briefly and then, as quick as he’d appeared by her side, Philip left the bed and strode to the door. The key turned in the lock and the door opened, releasing them back into their twisted prison. If death was to come for her, Vera thought, at least her last memory would be delicious.


End file.
